


The Pucks of Youth

by MeansToOffend (goodmorning)



Series: 31 in 31: NHL Fairy Tales [19]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fairy Tale Retellings, M/M, Philadelphia Flyers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 05:21:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12162369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmorning/pseuds/MeansToOffend
Summary: “'I don’t know for sure,' Simmer said, 'but I did hear about a rink up in the mountains where the pucks are said to be magic. If someone uses them to score three goals on any ice, he’ll be as good as new again.'”





	The Pucks of Youth

Many, many years ago there was a king with three proteges, whose names were Sean, Shayne, and Ivan. They had lived happily in the kingdom of Philadelphia for many years, playing hockey and governing well and wisely. Eventually, however, King Claude began to grow older. The proteges misliked seeing him lose a step, and asked everyone they met what cures they might try.

It was not until the king’s right-hand man returned from his summer diplomatic tour that they received an answer.

“I don’t know for sure,” Simmer said, “but I did hear about a rink up in the mountains where the pucks are said to be magic. If someone uses them to score three goals on any ice, he’ll be as good as new again.”

“Then we’re going to look for them,” said Ivan, seriously.

“I mean, it was probably just a story,” Simmer said, but they would not be dissuaded. So they set out, one by one, to look for the pucks of youth.

Sean went first, as the oldest, and before he had gone very far into the mountains he arrived at a place where the path split in three. The right path was marked with a hockey net, the centre path was marked with a goal light, and the left path was marked with an apple.

“Well, G needs to score goals with the pucks,” he said out loud to himself, and took the centre path.

When a week had gone by and Sean had not returned, Shayne set out himself. When he, too, reached the crossroads, he stopped to ponder for a moment.

“Well, G needs to put the pucks in the net,” he said out loud to himself, and took the right-hand path.

When another week had passed and Shayne, too, had not come back, Ivan prepared himself to go and find not only the pucks but his teammates as well. He knew, of course, that if he, too, disappeared, King Claude would be devastated. So he was determined to succeed.

Like his teammates, after a short time or a long one he arrived at the crossroads. Looking at each sign, he thought, not wishing to rush into a decision.

At last, he said, “Well, this adventure is meant to assist G,” and he took the left-hand path. 

After no more than an hour’s walk, Ivan came upon a house that was turning around and around on a pair of chicken legs.This, he knew, was the home of the Bob Yaga, and so the prince bravely sought entry, in the hopes that he might be willing to help.

“You have soul of fellow Russian,” Bob Yaga said, when Ivan stepped inside. “It is long time since anyone visit me. Tell me, why you come here?”

Ivan relayed the story, as instructed, and Bob Yaga listened, nodding occasionally.

“Yes, I know where rink is. But is not near here. Take my magic horse and ask my brother Semyon.”

Ivan again did as he was told and found himself almost at once in the mountains again, ones higher and colder than those he had left. He worried, briefly, that he might freeze to death before he could reach his goal. Luckily the horse slowed further, and after seeing the contrast between its black coat and the untrammeled snow, he realised he was looking at another house on legs, though these had the taloned feet of an eagle.

“Hello?” he called, entering.

“Bob send me a Russian, I see. What you want?” Semyon said, and Ivan felt a twinge of nerves, for Semyon was larger than he was and much less friendly than his brother had been, and they were dangerous men. But he told his story anyway, and Semyon scowled when he was done.

“You not need to come here. Horse get confused. You want younger brother, Andrei. I lend you new horse, you leave me now.”

Ivan thought, privately, that Bob Yaga had indeed meant to send him here, to irritate his brother, but he did not say this, simply thanking Semyon for the horse, whose blood-red coat suited its master all too well, and taking off once more.

This time when the horse slowed, Ivan found himself riding along a beach. The day was so warm he again began to worry, this time that he might end up with a bad case of heat stroke or dehydration. But, once again, the horse slowed down, and came to a stop right in front of yet another pair of legs, holding a house that was quite high up in the air, for they were the legs of a heron.

Nevertheless, Ivan managed to enter the house with a boost from Semyon’s horse, and found himself laying at the feet of the third brother. Though he was the tallest of the three, he also looked much younger. Even without the small amused smile on his face, Ivan felt that he would have found Andrei much less terrifying than Semyon.

This impression was reinforced when Andrei spoke. “Tea? I have many Russian friends here, I keep the kettle on always.”

Ivan thanked him, and, over tea, repeated his story for a third time.

“Yes, you are close now. I will lend you horse to take you there. But you must promise two things: that you take only three pucks, and you do not look for rink guardian.”

“Okay,” Ivan agreed, “but why?”

“He is pretty man. You are pretty man. You will distract one another, maybe.”

“Oh,” Ivan replied, and finished his tea.

Andrei saw him off with a thermos of tea and a massive white horse, and it was a short journey indeed before Ivan arrived at the rink. He picked up three pucks only and put them in his pockets, and he was about to return home when his curiosity got the better of him. Just looking at the guardian of the rink couldn’t possibly cause too much trouble, he thought, and he went looking.

Andrei had been right. The guardian of the rink was indeed a pretty man. He was also asleep. Ivan was possibly staring at him a little bit. But only for a moment, he promised himself…

Some time later, Ivan was pondering what colour the guardian’s eyes would be when they opened.

“Oh, no,” he said, and ran. But the guardian caught up with him.

“Wait! Who are you and why are you here?”

“I am Ivan, and I came here to help my mentor. Who are you?”

“Travis. Why did you stay here long enough to get caught?”

“I mean,” Ivan began, and gestured towards Travis.

“Oh,” Travis said, and blushed. “Still, you should probably get those pucks back to your mentor.”

“Can I see you again, afterwards?”

“Of course,” said Travis, and smiled.

On his way back to Philadelphia, Ivan asked the horse to take him to his teammates. This it did, and carried them out of their traps safely. But they, feeling overshadowed by Ivan and embarrassed that they themselves had not succeeded, stole the pucks from Ivan while he slept and headed back to the kingdom without him.

Andrei’s horse was still with him, however, and he soon caught up to them. They apologised, and he forgave them, and the horse kindly returned them all to the castle together.

They took the pucks to G, who scored once with each and was soon back to his old self, and the kingdom rejoiced, none more than those closest to him.

But Ivan could not fully celebrate, for the horse had left, and he knew not how to return to the mysterious rink without it. So he sighed, between the smiles, and longed to see Travis again.

At the expiry of three months, he was beginning to think it had all been a dream, until Simmer came running into the throne room to tell King Claude of an army on the horizon, riding under a banner of orange blazoned with three black pucks.

At this news, Ivan let out a wordless yell, and ran to meet the army at the kingdom’s gates. For indeed, it was led by Travis, and at the sight of Ivan he dismounted and the pair embraced.

“I thought something had happened to you!” Travis said into Ivan’s shoulder.

“I just didn’t know how to get back to you,” said Ivan, pulling him closer.

And so Ivan and Travis were together again, and eventually their kingdoms were united, and they lived happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> \- "The Apples of Youth" (sometimes Eternal Youth) is a Russian fairy tale in the same vein as the Grimms' "The Water of Life." It may have some Scandinavian influence (see Iðunn). It's one of the only tales in which Baba Yaga is purely helpful.   
> \- I could not possibly have resisted the opportunity to bring up multiple Russian goalies.


End file.
